


Five Songs Dean Winchester Will Never Cop to Secretly Loving

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five vignettes about the songs that Dean secretly loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Songs Dean Winchester Will Never Cop to Secretly Loving

1\. “So This is Love” _Cinderella_

“ _Cinderella_ is a girl’s movie,” Dean whines.

“I don’t think Sammy’s ready for _Star Wars_ yet, kiddo.”

Dean frowns, but Mom puts Sam on his lap and sits beside them both. She keeps her arm around Dean for the whole movie, and he doesn’t complain again.

Mom goes humming that song all day—while she’s changing Sammy’s diaper and as she’s folding laundry and that evening when she’s frying up chicken in the skillet. Dad comes in for dinner, shaking his head at her, and then she starts singing the song, really singing it, in this clear sweet voice, and Dad catches her round the waist and they go waltzing down the kitchen. Only the space is too small and Mom rocks the table with her hip on a twirl, knocking Sammy’s pyramid of clean bottles rolling . Mom’s laughing and so is Dad, and the chicken almost burns on the stove.

 

2\. “Wildflowers” Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, Emmylou Harris

Dean’s riding with Dad in the pickup, paring his nails with his knife and wiping demon goo on his shredded jeans with its flat edge. Dad’s pretty banged up; his left arm hangs limply in his lap and a cut on his jaw’s bleeding down his neck in a thin sheet. But he’s smiling as he turns the radio up a little louder. Dean hates the music Dad’s always got going in the pickup—this twangy shit on harmonica overload, and Jesus, can’t a cowboy keep a woman just once—but he knows better than to ever touch that dial.

Dad coughs, says, “Dean,” and Dean wonders why he turned the radio up if he wanted to talk. “I knew one day you’d be faster than your old man on the draw. You saved my life. You did good, son.”

Dean grins, cracking open his split lip again, and Dad grins too, bumps up the music another notch.

 

3\. “Walk Like an Egyptian” The Bangels 

“She’s yours, Dean.”

Dean runs his hand over the sun-warmed hood, checks his reflection in the windshield and shakes his head. “No way.”

But Dad tosses him the keys and he’s smiling like Dean’s never seen before. Sam’s behind Dad, leaning against the pickup, and he doesn’t even ask to come along for the ride, just throws him a cassette tape with this earnest look on his face.

Dean slides in the key and he’s so happy it almost hurts when he realizes he doesn’t even have to push back the seat or adjust the mirrors. The steering wheel’s too hot to grip, but he holds on tight anyway and thinks, “You’ve just been waiting for me, haven’t you, baby?” He pulls down the drive, turning over Sam’s cassette in his hands. Sam’s written on the side in Sharpie-- _Dean’s Classic Rock Mix_. It’s all Heart, and the B52s, and the freaking Bangels, but Dean listens to the whole thing, doesn’t come home until it’s played through.

 

4\. “Somewhere” _West Side Story_

Dean lays quiet and still, one hand flat on her thigh and his face buried in her hair. The sun’s coming up and everything in the room’s just starting to take definite shape in the weak light. Cassie likes to sleep to music. She has a five disc changer on her dresser, and by early morning it’s always cycled over to the same album. 

Dean wakes before she does, listening for the final track and matching his breath to hers the way he used to with Sammy when they were kids. He whispers, “I love you,” into her neck, testing the weight of the words on his tongue, tasting their gravity in the solemn chill of morning. Cassie shifts in her sleep, rolling into him, and the room’s suddenly bright with the dawn.

 

5\. “You Set Me Free” Michelle Branch

The first time Sam kisses Dean, they’re in a craphole in Oklahoma and the jerkwad next door’s watching TRL with the volume all the way up to twelve. 

Dean’s pissed. No, beyond pissed. Hell, he’s livid, to steal one of Sam’s four dollar words. Goddamn cops getting in the way, not believing them until the spirit had its claws—actual, real claws—hooked in under the sergeant’s breastbone, his blood a Jackson Pollack on the precinct floor. Dean’s hurt, too, but he’s not gonna admit that to Sam.

“Let me see your arm.” Sam reaches out and Dean slaps his hand away. “I’m serious, Dean. Let me patch you up.”

“No. I’m fine.”

Sam shakes his head, gets that look on his face, the pissy look with the laugh underneath, the one that drives Dean crazy. “Why are you so damn stubborn, Dean? It’s stupid.”

“Yeah? You’re stupid.”

“Ass.”

“Bitch.”

But Sam just stands there, looking at him through his bangs until Dean shucks his jacket and offers up his arm. Sam’s hands are cool and strong, feeling out the bone, poking at the edges of his bruises, and Dean lets him rub in some salve and wrap his wrist in gauze. Then Sam pushes his hair out of his eyes and leans down, right in Dean’s face. He looms over him like some kind of freak before he presses his lips very softly to Dean’s, waiting there like a question, until Dean opens his mouth, pulls him down into his lap, says yes.


End file.
